


Bad Reputations

by Tassledown



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Bad Touch Trio, British Empire!England not Nice!England, Crusades, Discussion of war, Imperialism, M/M, Nasty rumours, Rumours, WWII, and how they might get that reputation, and its side effects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/Tassledown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England is not a nice person, but even he didn't actually plan to worsen the things people believed about France and his boyfriends. (It wasn't like that took work, anyways, they were nasty enough people on their own.)<br/>It definitely wasn't his job to fix it, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that the "Bad Touch Trio" reputation people joke about could come out of the bad feeling I write between England and France as a couple - so this does talk about rumours being spread of Spain being a pedophile/grooming Lovino, Gilbert being a card-carrying Nazi (and other talk of war crimes), and France being a rapist.  
> (Note: I do not write the slowed aging of Hetalia canon, because its creepy IMO, so Lovino's been a physical adult since two decades after he became a Nation.)

“Would you stop carrying on like that in a public meeting room?” Arthur snapped. 

Across the room, Loving was seated across Antonio's lap, facing him and playing with his tie. The Spaniard glared back at him and pulled his lover closer to his chest. “Oh I'm sorry, are you jealous?” 

“Jealous, that you love a hormonal teenager?” Arthur sneered. “I think not, I don't have the kind of low-brow taste required for such a contortion.”

“Better a hormonal teenager than a vindictive old man.” Antonio laughed.

“I'm not into children,” Arthur snarled back. “Especially not ones you've raised for the purpose.”

Lovino whipped around in Antonio's lap fast enough to rock the entire table. Antonio barely held him back, the smaller Nation snarling, beyond words in fury. Arthur quickly backed away from his chair and left the room before Antonio's grip slipped.

A few moments later, Saudi Arabia followed him out.

“What exactly was that about?” she asked.

Arthur raised an eyebrow back at her, surprised she'd deigned to speak to him at all. “Ah. Romano hates people bringing that up. He likes to pretend he isn't Spain's catamite.”

“He's older than a catamite.” Her dark eyes stared levelly over her veil with a suspicious look.

Arthur smirked back at her. “They've been together for centuries; he's used to it. Besides, I wouldn't go to bed every night with someone with the body of a teenager. At least I have standards.”

“Not from what I've heard,” she said, but she also turned and left. 

Arthur clenched his hands and glared at her back, but there was no point arguing with her.

He was asked the same thing about Lovino from different people for a few days. He hadn't realized how few knew the Kingdom of Naples was older than Spain – at least, the Spain they had now. He couldn't really bring himself to care. If it mattered, the information wasn't that hard to look up; anyone could see Lovino wasn't actually a teenager, he just looked young.

Antonio himself finally cornered him, however, and Arthur couldn't slip away. 

“Why the Hell did you start this?”

“Start what?” Arthur growled.

“You fucking asshole! You know perfectly well how we got together, you son of a bitch.”

“Are people not liking you anymore?” Arthur sneered. “I'm sorry you have a taste of what I live with every day.”

Antonio punched at his throat and Arthur forced his hand off target before gouging at his eyes and drawing a knife with his other hand. Antonio staggered back but he didn't go for a knife, just held his hands up and bared his teeth.

“You did everything and more that people accuse you of,” Antonio spat. “I don't care if people accuse me of things I did. I care that they're wrong and it's something I'd never do!”

“You're Catholic, Antonio; you're a pedophile by association.” Arthur sneered. He straightened from the fighting crouch and turned his back on him. “Fix it yourself if you so care!”

Antonio grabbed his hair and jerked his head back, his other hand wrestling him for the knife. Arthur struggled against him and lost, bleeding out on the carpet before Antonio left.

He woke up to one of the South American Nations worriedly cleaning up around him and offering him water. The Nation – Peru, he thought – apologized for Spain's horrible behaviour and Arthur gratefully accepted. It was nice to not be the bad guy for once.

IIII

Arthur was so sick of listening to him speak. That was the problem, really, that Gilbert was still here and nobody else was willing to shut him the fuck up when he started talking about the past and his glory days and making it sound like nobody else had ever compared with him.

“Do you speak about anything else?” Arthur snarled. 

Gilbert turned on the table to face him. “What, you don't like it?” The man grinned like a weasel, or a Cheshire cat in Wonderland.

“Didn't your wars do enough damage the first time around? Do you have any shame at all?”

“Do you mean the Crusades, like the one I remember running into you at?” Gilbert sing-songed the words. “Because if you want to talk about dangerous wars...”

“How about the ones in the last century?” Arthur snapped. “Or do you not like to talk about those ones because you lost?”

The smile dropped off his face, but Gilbert just crossed his arms. “No, actually, I don't talk about them because I, at least, unlike you, actually do have some sense of shame when it's appropriate.”

Arthur smirked and pushed it a little more. “I don't think the Soviets would agree. From what I heard you were laughing when you took Stalingrad up until Russia dragged you from the wreckage like an animal. Russia was digusted by you.”

Gilbert leaned on the table between them, his smile back – thin, like a razor of teeth. “At least I didn't call them the jewel of the Empire and then starve them to death to feed my wars on another continent. I have standards.”

“Of course you do,” Arthur sneered. “You raped and burned your way through Belarus – don't tell me about killing people when you're the one with the camps –”

“An idea ripped straight from the British Empire, _arschloch_.” 

“You live for war!” Arthur snarled. “At least I tried to make people better!” 

Gilbert rocked back and laughed, and he stuck his hands in his pockets and just walked out. Arthur stared at his back with a snarl and wished he felt more satisfied, but he didn't. Everyone already knew Gilbert was a warmonger. To this day he had no idea why Ivan had ever forgiven him. He had no idea how anyone claimed he wasn't the one behind the armies of the Third Reich; how could he not be, with his history and his passion?

Why did anyone believe he wasn't a full-blooded Nazi beyond his white hair and red eyes?

He kept expecting Gilbert to do something about it, but the other Nation (the German Democratic Republic, as if anyone believed that stupid name was anything but a front) never even spoke to him, never argued, never raised his hand or his voice. Even if Arthur called him a Nazi to his face.

He just laughed whenever he reached that point and walked away. 

Even if he was just a facade for the Soviet Union, Arthur wasn't going to be the first of them to pick a fight. (He might claim he was better than him, but he wasn't an Empire anymore and a physical fight with Gilbert was stooping to his level, where Arthur did not have the advantage or higher ground.)

But oh, did Arthur want to punch him every time he walked away from the fight.

(Why the Hell would he even do that? What would he abandon the fight for?)

IIII

Arthur could see Francis coming from the corner of his eye, but he pretended he didn't because he really did wonder if he'd actually go that far to get it. 

The surprise abruptly doubled: Francis jammed his hands down his shirt, and oh my God they were cold! Arthur cursed and shot to his feet, only to have Francis grab his shirt, smirk and force his lips over his mouth. Arthur punched him off of him.

“What the Hell do you think you're doing, you damn frog?”

Francis wiped blood from his noise and smiled back at him, sprawled naked at his feet. “Ah, mon ami, you forgot to give me the keycard to your room. I thought I should come get it.”

Forgot, yes, more like threw him out and left. “I thought you were going to stay with your boyfriends, not come molest me for it.”

Francis picked himself back up off the ground and dusted off his ass in smooth, negligent motions. “But it is you I long for, and you whom I miss. I wish to leave you a delightful surprise for your return!”

Arthur gave him a bored look and crossed his arms. Francis slipped up next to him and whispered in his ear. 

“Mon cher, my wallet and my keycard are still with my clothes. Please let me back in?”

Arthur pushed him off again, threw him into the wall this time with a thrill of satisfaction. Francis snarled and threw himself on him, nails raking down his face and forcing him to the floor. Arthur slammed his wrist into the floor only to be kneed in the stomach and then rolled onto his back. 

Francis snarled. “You – will – give – me – the – key!”

“Over my dead body!” Arthur punched him back, over and over, throat and face and chest – he didn't care. 

They fought and growled at each other until Francis got the upper hand; he got his wallet, kneeling on Arthur's chest and throat, and then, once he verified, the room key was there, got up and left with the whole thing, switching his bare ass at him as he went. 

“I'd better not see you anywhere near my room!” Arthur shouted. He coughed and leaned over his knees, struggling to catch his breath. 

“Did you two fight again?” Mexico asked. 

Arthur looked up at her with surprise and shrugged. “He didn't hurt me, I'm fine.”

“That's the biggest load of horseshit I've heard in a long time. You shouldn't try to make it work if he attacks you like that.”

“He knows better, I kind of set him off.” He groaned and picked himself up with a sigh, rubbing at his chest with a wince. “It's nothing I can't handle.”

“That's what they all say.” She shrugged again, but her eyes went from him to the doorway with a cautious look. “You gonna need a new hotel room for the night?”

Arthur gave her a completely confused look. “I'm not sure what you mean?”

“If he's going to be lying in wait for you. If you have nowhere else to go.”

“Oh, that.” Arthur laughed a little. “I hope he is, we haven't had sex go well in too long.”

“Even if he starts it like that?”

Arthur laughed harder, but quickly forced it down. “He likes any sex, any way he can get it. Don't worry about me; you know we've been together forever.”

“Doesn't mean that's a good thing,” she muttered. “but whatever pleases you, old man.” 

He thought she added 'fucking Europeans' after, but he wasn't sure. He gave her a bemused look as she walked away.

Did she really not know, or not believe what Alfred said about him? That he hurt Francis, not the other way around? She'd just asked him everything he knew Antonio and Gilbert asked Francis, almost every time they spoke about him. 

She thought Francis was a rapist? The irony was almost too hilarious. 

When Brazil asked him if Francis had broken into his hotel room that night, Arthur answered yes before he even remembered what he must've heard; he answered that he was fine, of course, the bruises were all from earlier that day but it didn't make the concerned look go away. 

Saudi Arabia asked him if France was really friends with Spain, and if both of them liked “that cross old knight” and left to a huddle with the others in her region, including Turkey who was such a terrible judge of character Arthur had to stifle a laugh.

For his part, Turkey actually came up to him the next day with a suspicious scowl across his face. 

“I know France isn't really like that, so what gives?” he asked. 

“What are you asking me about?” Arthur gave him an impatient look back. “I really do not understand.”

“France wouldn't rape someone. What really happened?”

“France would take sex however it was offered, Sadıq.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “He's a slut; he likes sex, not how he gets it. If he thinks waiting for me naked in my room will get him it, he'll do it. That's it.”

Turkey made a disgusted face at him. “We are not friends don't call me that.  
”  
“Call you what?” Arthur frowned.

“My name. You're not my fucking friend or my partner or anything else I like, you fucking bastard.”

Arthur made a cross noise at him. “Whatever. I answered your question. Go away.”

“Gladly.” He started to turn away and scowled back at him. “And by the way, I don't believe you. About him or Spain.”

“Did I ask?” Arthur exhaled loudly. “I don't care what you believe. It doesn't make a difference in if it's true or not. All that matters is that people believe it.”

“You're fucking sick.”

Arthur just walked away.

IIII

By the time Antonio got Lovino to Gilbert's hotel room, the smaller Nation's fury had subsided to shivering and clinging to his neck. Antonio didn't even try to move his hands enough to get the door; He kicked it twice with his foot and waited for Gilbert to come get the door. 

Gilbert gave them a dubious look over. “What happened?”

“Meeting with Peru,” Antonio said by way of explanation, and Gilbert's mouth formed a small 'oh' and he stepped back to let them in. 

“That's gotten worse lately, hasn't it?” Gilbert asked.

“Only with my old colonies.” Antonio sighed. “It's not like the rest care or believe it.”

“Isn't that the most appalling part?” Francis murmured, and Antonio abruptly realized he was seated on the floor, leaning against the bed by Gilbert's legs. “The ones who believe but don't think it's worth hating you for.”

“I haven't run into much about you recently, what is it?” Antonio asked.

“Oh, nothing of import, but Mexico thinks I abuse poor Angleterre and Algeria has been giving me wary looks and a few others in the Middle East...”

“Most of them think Europeans are psychopaths as it is,” Gilbert said. He handed Antonio a glass of water. “Which, we've got not a whole lot of ground to prove them wrong with.”

“Saudi Arabia has little room to talk,” Antonio grumbled. 

“Do any of us?” Francis eyed his water like he wasn't sure what to do with it, then gulped it down like he wished it was stronger. Lovino took Antonio's glass of water and drank it, then got up and made angry noises at Gilbert until he promised to stay out of the kitchenette area.

“That's not the point,” Antonio grumbled. “The point is that Arthur started it for no good reason.”

“Arthur started yours,” Gilbert said. “At least, in part.”

“Oh he started the ones about Antonio,” Francis said. “I'd never heard anything about Romano being his catamite before that.”

“How did that even get around!?” Antonio cursed. “I had him on a fucking pirate ship for two centuries and now people start asking? Even Arthur never got that about Alfred!”

“Everyone was too terrified of him to try,” Francis said mildly, “and if you dare say that in public and make Alfred hear that from strangers I will castrate you.”

“I wouldn't do that to him,” Antonio growled. “I know better. I'm just pissed this is happening now.”

“Part of being an Empire and pissing people off,” Gilbert snorted. “You'll get used to it.”

Antonio sighed. “I hope so. I wouldn't mind as much if it didn't keep getting back to, you know, a certain someone.” He looked towards the kitchenette were Lovino had gotten into Gilbert's alcohol and was drinking it straight from the bottle as he put together plates full of whatever snack foods Gilbert had had sitting around. 

“I'm sure he will get better at taking it,” Gilbert said bracingly.

“I've heard more people talking about you as well,” Antonio added warily. “Are you doing okay?”

“Oh, that?” Gilbert shrugged. “It comes and goes. I know Arthur decided to shout with me about it a few months back, so that's probably why it's come up again for this round, but – I can't argue with it. There's no reason anyone would believe otherwise, and it'll hurt people more for me to draw it out than just back off.”

“Well, as long as one of us is okay.” Antonio rubbed a hand over his head and then covered his face with a sigh. 

He felt the bed dip next to him and Gilbert wrapped an arm over his back, hugging him closer. The other side of the bed dipped as well and Francis' hair draped loosely over Antonio's neck as he leaned against him. Antonio slipped his arm around Francis' waist in response and turned to kiss his forehead. Lovino caught his eyes from the kitchenette, a plate of carefully prepared food on the counter and a look of bewildered confusion on his face.

“Can we get on the bed properly?” Antonio asked, and beckoned for Lovino to join them. “I want to just sit with all of you right now.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Gilbert moved back to the headboard first, then Antonio leaned agaisnt him and Francis took his lap. Lovino came over and gave the plate of food to Francis before he gratefully pressed up to his other side to Antonio's relief. He really just wanted to hold them all right now, and this was just what he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know, a catamite is the young (usually male) lover of a much older man and comes from the traditions in Rome or something like that and does indeed imply a very unbalanced relationship (to put it mildly.)
> 
> The Free State of Prussia within Germany was actually dissolved by the Nazi party because they were predominantly Social Democrat (the major opposition to the National Socialists) and controlled too much of the vote for the Nazis to get their way. I do not imagine Gilbert took kindly to that, regardless of how much he liked war.


	2. Alfred's Behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern day, England finds he likes meeting with America in smaller settings and feels he has a better idea of his personality. He's not sure he likes what that leads to, though.
> 
> (Bonus: Romano has a more detailed argument when he's sick of hearing about what Spain purportedly has done.)

Arthur stretched his arms over his head as the meeting broke up and sighed happily. “That went really well, Alfred. I'm impressed.”

“Oh?” Alfred looked up as he shut down his laptop. 

“I am.” Arthur packed up his own briefcase as well. “You used to be so fond of your fantasies, it's nice to see you've grown out of it.”

“Oh, that. Yeah!” Alfred rubbed at his neck and shrugged at the table. “Well, you know, I was still pretty young. It takes some time to get used to trying to deal with such big problems.”

Arthur laughed under his breath. “You're still pretty young, but you're starting to mature into an admirable adult. I'm proud of you growing up.”

Alfred stopped in the middle of putting his laptop into his shoulder bag and gave him a queer look. “Thanks?”

Arthur bristled at his tone. “What do you think I'm trying to do? I'm giving you a compliment, can you take it with something resembling respect?”

“I'm not sure how much of a compliment that is,” Alfred said. “I was a kid. It's not really a surprise that I've gotten used to government at some point. I'm a superpower now, I have to learn how to deal with this.”

“You suggested we use a superhero to fix a world war,” Arthur said mildly. “You were completely irrational without an ounce of sense and no useful suggestions whatsoever; you always wanted to be in control. Honestly, as far as I can tell you still don't show this side of yourself at the meetings at the UN and I don't understand why not.”

Alfred paused with his hands on the table on either side of his papers. “I guess I just get nervous around them still, but I know my domestic politics well enough to answer you and your politicians when you come see me. I know how to talk to you.”

“Well, at least you're acting less like that damn Prussian,” Arthur grumbled. 

Alfred laughed and clipped his bag shut and tossed it over his shoulder, picking up the pile of papers in his arm. “I really don't know what to say Arthur, thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Arthur frowned at him and propped his briefcase under his arm. “I don't know why you have to make a big deal of one compliment, Alfred. I'm proud to see my boy grow up.”

“You surprised me.” Alfred hugged the papers to his chest with a cautious look. “You can be hard to talk to, sometimes.”

“We're family, Alfred, we're supposed to talk.” Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. He didn't like where this was going. He'd thought Alfred cared more than that.

Alfred looked around the room and put the papers back down on the table. He dropped his shoulder bag into his seat and took a step away from it, his arms loose at his sides – like he was ready to fight. Arthur mirrored him and put his briefcase on the table as well. He did not want to have something in his arms right now.

“You know you hate it when we tell you the truth, right?” Alfred said. “You can't stand it sometimes. You start screaming at anyone who tries.”

“I do not.” Arthur cut himself off and swallowed, uncomfortably aware that sounded exactly like what Alfred had just described. “I am not unreasonable.”

“I didn't call you that,” Alfred said. His mouth had curved into a wry little smile. “I said you can't stand the truth. You drive everyone nuts trying to figure out how to tell you something's wrong.”

Arthur scoffed. “Why are you bringing this up when I just gave you a compliment?”

Alfred gave him a dark look. “I hate when you try to act like you raised me to be like this when you didn't. If you'd had your way, I'd still be your colony.”

“Is Mattie still my colony, Alfred?” Arthur spread his arms roughly. “I let my Empire go a long time ago, when it was the right time for it.”

“You let it go kicking and screaming, Arthur; you went to war over it twice! You can't even come visit me on my birthday without looking sickened. Am I supposed to appreciate that?”

“I didn't want that war, of course it sickens me! You were a fucking mess, you weren't ready to live on your own and you were the one who brought us to war because you didn't like me!”

“And what about India, Arthur?” Alfred waved his hand. “What about China?”

Arthur crossed his arms. “I was doing my best to take care of them and bring them into the modern age, like you're doing with Hawai'i. Some people need more teaching at a different age.”

“Hawai'i lives on her island still, unless you wants to come talk to me. Just because I happen to have taken control of her lands doesn't mean I own her.” Arthur crossed his arms. “You act like you wanted the best for me. You didn't. You wanted to own me.”

“That isn't what being a colony is about, Alfred, you shouldn't listen to war-mongers. Prussia doesn't understand what it's like to be an Empire, he never managed it.”

Alfred laughed at him and spread his hands. “See? This is the same place we were before.”

“I don't even know what you mean!”

“You can't handle it if I tell you I had a problem with you. You pretend it doesn't exist and it's someone else's fault. It's convenient for you to act like me befriending Prussia is the whole reason I rebelled, because you don't understand why he never acts like you do.”

“Prussia is a warmonger who can't even obey his own government. He's dangerous and the reason for half the wars in Europe in the past millenium.” Arthur took a step forward and clenched his hands. “I let you go! I could've forced you to come home after your rebellion and I didn't, whether your people won or not!”

Alfred closed his eyes and exhaled. “You gave up because you couldn't win. You realized you couldn't beat me into submission anymore than your government could.”

Arthur snatched his briefcase off the table and stalked back to the door. “You're still the same child you were, Alfred. I don't know what possessed me to try to talk sense into you. I never hurt you! I don't know why you keep acting like I did!”

He opened the door and shut it and then stopped outside, waiting for Alfred to say something, to call him back. When the door stayed shut, he stepped back over to it and listened for a moment, expecting to hear something. Crying maybe.

He didn't hear anything.

Francis called out to him from down the hall, and Arthur sighed and walked over to him to catch up, controlling his face to a cross look and not something closer to fury.

“How did the meeting go?” Francis asked. 

“The same as always,” Arthur grumbled. “We got it done, no thanks to him. I don't know when he'll ever learn to act like an adult.”

 

Bonus Part!

Lovino had to stalk out of the meeting. He had to. There was no reason to stay, whatsoever; he was only going to get more and more angry as time went on. He really didn't like to walk out on Mexico, but he couldn't speak to her if she was going to continue to act like she was. 

It wasn't that much longer until the meeting ended, and Lovino turned to watch for Antonio to come out. When it opened, Mexico walked out first and gave him a pitying look. He ignored her and threw his arms around Antonio's neck as he came out behind her.

“You disgust me,” Mexico said irritably.

Lovino turned his face to glare at her. “Would you please shut up?”

“I can't stand seeing you hang all over him like that when you know what he did.”

Lovino reined in his temper, barely, grabbing Antonio's arm hard enough to bruise and turning him to walk away.

“Do you really like a fucking pedophile?” she added.

Lovino spun on his heel and slammed her into the wall. “You need to shut the fuck up about that before I hurt you for real!”

Mexico raked her nails down his face and Lovino cursed and backed off, stepping out of range and holding his hands out at his sides, clenched into fists.

“Don't you fucking touch me!” Mexico spat. “You're as bad as he is!”

“Yeah, I'm as fucking bad as he is,” Lovino snapped. “I fell in love with a stupid young Empire, I know how fucking stupid that was because I've lived under an Empire before – the same one that fucking birthed him, you know? Because I'm fucking older than him!”

“Is that what you're angry about?” Mexico spat. “That I got your age wrong?”

“No, I'm not fucking pissed about that.” Lovino snarled. He stepped up into her space again, not touching her, but so he could lower his voice. “I don't care if you fucking call him an Empire, or a glory-hound, or a war-monger. I don't care if you blame him for the plagues or the genocides or the Inquisition because he fucking did all that – but don't fucking pretend you care about him being a pedophile when you only believe it because it makes him look bad. I grew up with one, Mexico, one that wasn't him, and if you don't care about me when you throw that around, yeah, you're going to fucking piss me off.” He stepped back again and smiled sweetly at her. “Is that clearer now?”

She gave him a minute nod and glanced at Antonio again. “You're still fucking sick for loving him. You admit to everything else. Why does one thing make a fucking difference?”

“Because, unlike England, he knows it was a fucking mess and he doesn't want to have it anymore.” Lovino rolled his eyes. “He hurt you, not me. I'm not traumatized by it like you are.”

Mexico lunged forward and punched him in the face. Lovino yelped and dropped, but when he blinked the tears of pain out of his eyes, she'd already walked away. Antonio came over and crouched beside him. 

“Do you feel better now?” he asked.

Lovino winced and twisted his broken nose back in place with a curse. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Antonio hugged him around the shoulders. “Then I'm glad for you. Please don't pick more fights if you don't have to.”

Lovino kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his hair. “I'll try not to. I love you.”


End file.
